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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28135470">The Ghost of You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/godseph/pseuds/godseph'>godseph</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Again, Alcoholism, Angst, Ghosts, Hallucinations, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prompto is Suffering, new years fic, only angst, prompto has PTSD, prompto just wants to be happy, royal graveyard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:00:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,191</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28135470</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/godseph/pseuds/godseph</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>prompto has a rough time on new year's eve.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Past Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Ghost of You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i do not own anyone or anything from square enix/squaresoft. this work is non-profit.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> On new years, he drank all he could. He drank himself stupid until he blacked out. Every time he closed his eyes, all he saw was them. Their corpses; the fresh blood that oozed from every wound-the expressions they wore on their lifeless bodies. The dead eyes that bore into his soul. It was all too much. All he could do was sob and drink more. The alcohol didn’t take his pain away. It made the memories more vivid, more horrific to remember. It warped the way he remembered things. It made them unrecognizable. </p><p> He tumbled out of his front door with no direction, stumbling down the street with his jacket held close to him. The air was crisp and cold. If he ran into anyone, he’d blame it on the weather. The sun had long since gone down, leaving Insomnia in darkness. He shuddered when an icy breeze hit him in the face. He had a vague idea of where he wanted to go—the royal graveyard. Prompto felt as if he needed to spend the upcoming new Year celebration with a certain buried someone. </p><p>When he finally approached the castle, it was almost as if he’d been stabbed in the lungs. He hadn’t been there in a long time, since Noctis. They always spent new year's eve together. Be it as a couple or not, there was always laughter, skinship. He would kill to feel the warmth of Noctis’s hands and face against him. </p><p> Prompto snuck around the castle perimeters, scaling the fence that surrounded the royal graveyard. When he got to the top, he jumped off. He heard a tearing noise once he did and noticed his pants’ leg had torn from the spikes on the fence. He shrugged and decided that he’d fix them later, no matter how worse it made the cold. His eyes flickered from gravestone to gravestone as he walked down the set path in the large graveyard. The cold had multiplied here, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of the spirits or him coming to his senses. Either way, his shivers grew worse, and his teeth began to chatter, but he was determined all the same. He spotted a tomb from far off and broke into a sprint, going as fast as his legs would let him. His breathing grew heavy, and his legs ached, but he didn’t care. He wanted to be by Noctis despite the obvious boundaries that separated them. By the time he reached the royal tomb, he was out of breath and panting hard. He rested a hand on the cold stone and leaned over, trying to slow his breathing down a bit. Prompto let himself collapse to the ground, depending on the tomb for support as he stared up at the sky. </p><p> “I wish you’d come back,” he muttered through frantic breaths. “It hasn’t been the same without you. Cindy and I split up. I don’t know where she is. It’s painful, existing without you. I thought we would be together forever.” He sighed, resting his head in his hands. </p><p>He knew Noctis wasn’t very spiritual, but he had always believed in ghosts, and he hoped that somewhere, anywhere, the ghost of Noctis could hear him. That maybe he’d be able to communicate what he’d been feeling for the past year. The ten years of Noctis’s disappearance. The emptiness he truly felt daily. </p><p>.“I love you, Noct. I know you know, but I never said it enough. I wish I could’ve told you one more time.” He felt the telltale sting in his eyes—the ache in his throat. “Christmas was the worst. I miss us. I miss how you used to tease me for burning the cookies or the dumb chocobo sweater I wore.” Thoughts of Christmases passed swarmed his thoughts, and he could no longer hold back the tears. It was as though they would never stop, and the cold made them painful. It made them ice cold against his otherwise warm cheeks. He put his face in his hands and moved his knees close to his chest. He choked on the sobs that shook his thin frame to the core. He knew he wasn’t alone; the graveyard flooded with the spirits of the dead, but he couldn’t feel Noctis’s spirit anywhere. He was desperate to feel that remotely reminded him of his late lover, anything but the burn of alcohol down his throat and the feeling of tears on his face.</p><p>His heart sank until it hit rock bottom. Why had he come here? To mourn? To beg, barter, to try and trade his life for Noctis’s? His reasoning was lost in his mind until he heard fireworks pop in the sky. He’d come here to celebrate, to spend time with his friends. But what friends did he have now? Spirits? 

</p><p>Prompto let out an exhausted sigh and took his hands from his face, hiccuping. His eyes were drawn to lights in the sky, bursting with life and beautiful colors that contrasted against the night so wonderful. The breeze blew again, and he noticed that his hands were still wet with tears. He looked back down at them for a split second, expecting clear liquid to shine off of his hands, and almost screamed when he saw red. </p><p>Had he been crying blood? No, no, that was impossible. His eyes were still intact; how else would he be able to see? And then something above him dripped red that fell on his open hands. Hesitant, he curled his hands into fists and slowly looked up. This time, he did scream. Loud and horrified, before realizing it was his imagination. On the tree that stood before he was Noctis’s body, sword still sheathed in his heart and pinning him to the tree. His head hung, but blood dripped from every orifice. His eyes were no longer there, just empty black holes. What was left of his mouth was covered in dried blood, his lips cracked, and the sword shone a bright red. It was from a nightmare, Noctis’s rotting corpse that had appeared many times. Viscous red liquid dripped softly from the eye sockets onto Prompto’s hands. Drips turned into streams; streams turned to harsh flows. Red covered his clothes as he sat still, frozen in place with fear. The corpse moved it’s arm, unsheathing the blade and falling to the floor just before Prompto’s feet. It crawled over him, its breath cold and horrid; he felt his clothes soak up the blood that poured non-stop. The wind picked up, blowing the hair of the animated, lifeless puppet that pinned him in place. When another firework went off, he jumped and glanced up at the green sparks in the sky. He looked back at the corpse and found it had disappeared.</p><p> The blood on him was no longer there, and his soaked clothes were now dry. He let out a wail in defeat and shut his eyes. The feeling of exhaustion set in, and he unable to feel his face due to the cold. His body went numb, and he gave into the darkness. </p>
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